


Tea and Trust

by SailorFish



Series: A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Trollmarket [2]
Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: (wow that's an actual tag hah), Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Just Jim's two dads actually having to talk to each other oh no, Post-Canon, Season/Series 03 Spoilers, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 11:27:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14872914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorFish/pseuds/SailorFish
Summary: The Changeling Problem: So, assuming that not every single changeling apart from Strickler, NotEnrique, and Nomura is dead, and assuming they all reverted to their troll form after the Familiars got out… What’s gonna happen to them all?Strickler and Blinky sit down together to hash it out.





	Tea and Trust

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry it's a bit clunky, but I just wanted more of Jim's Two New Dads discussing shit. :V  
> You don't have to read [Star Student](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14814699/chapters/34280301) first but I think it helps?

“A favour?” repeated Blinky skeptically.

Was it just his imagination or did the changeling actually flush, just the slightest bit? Blinky kept two eyes on the pen Stricklander was fiddling with and the rest on his face. Was this some sort of clever ruse? Was the pen another knife? Blinky wished he could grab his own staff. He'd feel a lot better if he has _something_ in his hands.

“In my defense, it wasn't my idea,” drawled Stricklander. “ _Jim_ insisted I talk to you.”

And that was the reason he and the changeling were sitting down at a table with a teapot between them and Blinky’s staff all the way over in the corner of the room.

It was the first time since Gunmar's defeat that Master Jim and Claire's families were visiting their new home in New Jersey. (AAARRRGGHH!!! and Toby had already swung by two weeks ago.) Naturally, everyone was a bit on edge: the Nuñez family because they still weren’t used to trolls, the trolls because they still weren’t used to non-Trollhunter-team humans, Jim because his girlfriend’s parents were visiting (and because he was afraid Merlin would reappear suddenly and Barbara would attack him again). And _everyone_ was doubly anxious over a changeling in Trollmarket — even if that changeling still tried to appear more human than troll, with a button down shirt that he’d fashioned wing holes into.

But Blinky hadn’t missed how Master Jim’s eyes had lit up both at the sight of his mother… and at the sight of his former teacher.

For the boy’s sake, he was going to try.

“And what might this favour be, pray tell?”

“Simple,” said Stricklander. “And then again, not quite…” His eyes slid away from Blinky’s; he took another sip of his tea. “As the, ah, head of what’s left of the Janus Order, I would like to formally request entrance into Trollmarket for other changelings.”

“Preposterous!”

It burst from Blinky’s lips before he could stop himself. Stricklander’s eyes flashed a darker gold; Blinky grabbed for his teacup to resist the urge to duck and lunge for his staff instead. At least it would be something to throw at the other’s eyes. Under the table, his empty hands curled into fists. But Stricklander didn’t reach for a knife. Blinky slowly loosened his grip on the cup and took a long sip himself.

He really shouldn’t be this jumpy. Stricklander had refused Morgana treacherous temptations, hadn’t he? They’d fought against Gumm-Gumms together. Goodness gracious, he was even living with Barbara. Master Jim would never have allowed it if he wasn’t absolutely certain Stricklander was on their side — _Barbara_ would never have allowed it. What was it about the changeling that made Blinky’s teeth ache?

Stricklander commented evenly, “You accepted General Aarghaumont readily enough, however."

“Those were completely different circumstances and you know it,” snapped Blinky. “AAARRRGGHH!!! was kidnapped, no, _sold_ to the Gumm-Gumms as a child — ”

“And we weren’t?” Stricklander ground out.

And that was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it? Changelings too were trolls kidnapped by Gumm-Gumms. But although AAARRRGGHH!!! had been broken and remolded into a machine for war, the transformation the changelings had undergone was something… _more._

Something that made Blinky’s very bones hum a steady note of _wrong!_ every time he looked at them.

“ — _and_ he renounced his ways voluntarily,” Blinky continued heatedly. “I think you’ll find there’s a difference between wanting to join Trollmarket because one understands it’s the right thing to do, and joining because all other options have been exhausted!”

“The difference is level of brainwashing,” sneered Stricklander. He was playing with his pen again; there was definitely a flush to his cheeks now. A dark green, angry one. “As well as amount of choice. Say w — they had left Gunmar ages ago. Where exactly would they have gone? Don’t tell me Trollmarket would have welcomed them with open arms: _you’re_ supposedly the new, progressive leader, and the only reason you’ve deigned to speak with me is because Jim insisted!”

He couldn’t deny that. He was also too wound up to care. How _dare_ Stricklander shove all responsibility for his actions off on the very people he’d tried to destroy?!

“And yet, changelings are the only trolls who don’t need to live near a Heartstone. They have far more choice than many of us. If this was merely a question of options, why did they not just _flee?_ ”

Stricklander turned his head away sharply.

“A few did,” he said. His voice was very, very flat. “The longest surviving runaway made it two years.”

Ah.

And just like that, Blinky didn’t want to fight anymore.

The two sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

As one of the heads of the Janus Order, had he ordered hunts for them? A way to keep the rest in line? Or had he contemplated running himself once, when he was young?

Had any of them been Stricklander’s friends? At the very least, they’d been his siblings. Over the past few months, Blinky had learned how fraught and yet close such a relationship could be. Blinky and Dictatious were…

Dictatious.

Blinky closed his eyes tight; for a moment, he felt every single one of his near one thousand years. _How very hypocritical of you, Blinkous Galadrigal._ What right had he to refuse any of Stricklander’s kin for choosing Trollmarket only as the last of all options, when he’d granted sanctuary to his brother in the exact same position? Dictatious didn’t even have the excuse of being raised in evil from early childhood.

“Regardless — ”

“Fine, then — ”

They both stopped awkwardly. Stricklander eyed him suspiciously, as if he was almost completely certain Blinky was about to finish with, ‘ _Fine, then get out._ ’

He’d asked Master Jim once how he'd learned to talk to Stricklander without wanting to tear his hair out.

 _Uh, it’s alright, you just have to expect that he always expects the worst possible outcome. And you know how most people believe the other person’s mostly telling the truth when they talk? Strickler believes they’re mostly lying. So you gotta not get annoyed when he tries to trick you into a less horrible outcome, except he wouldn’t_ have _to trick you if he just asked normally. But he’s been getting better lately!_

Well, maybe he’d indeed gotten better with Jim, but he hadn’t gotten better with anyone else. Blinky waved for the other troll to continue.

“I was about to say,” said Stricklander carefully. “Regardless of your personal feelings on our…” his lip curled slightly, “ _impurity_ , changelings _are_ still trolls and thus they will be a matter for the Trollhunter eventually. Most simply cannot live alone in the human world for much longer without detection. Whether Jim has to kill them or whether he’s asked to protect them, he will have to cross paths with them eventually.”

Ah, there it was. Stricklander’s trump card, revealed.

Master Jim _would_ go, if he was asked — asked by Stricklander, no doubt. He was the Trollhunter and it was his duty. And he and the changeling had finally reached an understanding. No. Who was Blinky fooling? It wasn’t just an understanding, the two were genuinely close.

A dull fire burned in his belly at the thought.

Perhaps if he hadn’t just decided to let the changelings in himself, he would have let it burn through him. He imagined himself shooting to his feet and thundering, _How dare you manipulate Master Jim in such a way?_ No doubt Stricklander expected him to shout; the changeling had shifted forward in his seat slightly, anticipating Blinky’s furious retort.

It reminded Blinky suddenly, very strongly, of handling AAARRRGGHH!!! when he’d first escaped the Darklands. Uncertain, frightened, no hesitation in springing into action, whether to fight or flee.

Blinky didn’t want to fight Stricklander — no,  _Strickler_ , now — anymore.

And Strickler was genuinely good for Jim. He could offer him things Blinky simply could not. Blinky remembered how excitedly the boy’s eyes had shone when he’d lugged back a stack of books from his last visit to Arcadia. (They’d been good books too: Blinky had gone through them over the past few weeks and marvelled at the copious neatly written notes in the margins, reminding Jim to consider the situation from the other side’s perspective, or look into such and such book for more detail on motivations, or…)

Strickler was right too. If Blinky didn’t deal with the changelings now, Jim _would_ have to deal with them eventually.

So Blinky damped the fire within him and shoved aside any feelings of petty jealousy. Instead he said, “How many even are there?”

Strickler’s eyes went very wide and Blinky wanted to laugh. He could almost hear the changeling’s mind whirring and recalculating. It seemed the one thing he hadn’t expected was zero resistance.

“Oh, just about twenty for now,” Strickler’s voice had that falsely casual note in it. It was almost impressive how quickly he could go back to pretending it was all going as planned for him. Or were they just skipping ahead several steps in whatever plan he'd concocted to manipulate Blinky into allowing the changelings in? Blinky really didn't need that much manipulation, just a quick reminder of what he knew was right. “Most died, as you know, in Gunmar’s little… genocide. A few I’ve tried to contact condemned me as a traitor. They’ll come round when it gets _really_ tough, but you know how it is.”

He rolled up one of his shirt sleeves carefully. Underneath it was a tidy bandage, which Strickler partially unravelled, far less carefully. Underneath _that_ was a vicious looking bite mark.

“Wait, they attacked you?!” Blinky asked in alarm. Turning over a new leaf was turning over a new leaf, but Rule One was Rule One. “And you expect me to just invite them in?”

“Well, I’m not saying you should treat them as honoured guests,” said Strickler with a shrug. He fiddled with the bandage. Having only two hands always looked so inconvenient. “But if you decide to treat them like dogs — do remember they’re the rabid kind.”

Where had _that_ suddenly come from?

“Deya give me strength,” Blinky muttered, thoroughly exasperated. “I wasn’t planning on treating them like dogs!”

The reply came, swift as a snake: “Ah, and here I thought you weren’t planning to treat with them at all."

That was the problem with changelings. They twisted your words around. If Blinky was feeling charitable, he would describe talking to Strickler like solving a puzzle. He liked puzzles. If he was feeling less charitable, it was bloody infuriating.

_You just have to expect that he always expects the worst possible outcome._

Alright, think about it logically, Blinkous. What were Strickler’s worst predicted outcomes in this scenario? One, obviously, Blinky refusing outright. Two, apparently, Blinky treating them like ‘dogs’. _Ah._ That is, Strickler signing his kin over into more of the same servitude they’d had with the Gumm-Gumms.

Blinky huffed at the idea, revolted.

“Alright, give your arm here, Strickler,” he said gruffly, beckoning with two of his hands.

The other troll blinked at him. His arm jerked, as though he wanted to bring it in tight to himself instead. _But you’re going to have to trust me if you’re putting your siblings under my care_. Strickler must have had the same thought; he slowly stretched out his arm flat on the table. Was he actually expecting Blinky to aggravate his wound or was it just nervous instinct? Had Strickler ever had a positive experience with a non-changeling troll?

Neither had AAARRRGGHH!!!, once.

Blinky set about rebandaging the arm properly.

“If I let them in,” he said, and noted the green fingers twitching slightly. “What promises would you or they be willing to make about their behaviour in here?”

“What promises would you believe?”

Stricklander’s quiet voice was somewhere between wry and bitter. Right, time to press in properly.

“From them? None, probably. From you, any you care to give.”

Now Stricklander did jerk his arm away. He had the gall to actually look offended at Blinky’s words. His wings and nostrils flared and he stared hard at Blinky.

“You don't have to coddle me, Galadrigal; I’m not our young Trollhunter. We both know you trust me as little as I trust you. Let's cut to the chase already: what do you really want in return?”

_Strickler believes they’re mostly lying._

One step forward and one step back.

“Any promise you care to give Master Jim, then. You have faith in our Trollhunter. As do I.” Blinky smiled encouragingly at the changeling. Perhaps if AAARRRGGHH!!! had been able to talk more after escaping the Darklands, they would have had this same conversation too, over and over. “Surely that transfers a modicum of trust onto each other?”

“The commutative properties of trust?” Strickler laughed lightly. His eyes didn’t leave Blinky’s. “And what sort of promises would these be?”

“Well, for example, a promise that if issues arise — and issues _will_ arise — they won’t respond immediately with deadly force. If somebody calls them ‘impure’, they’ll come to _me_ rather than tearing that troll’s head off.”

Strickler raised an eyebrow; one side of his lips curled upward. In what was almost a jocular tone, as if he were just humouring Blinky, he said, “Do you promise in return that the _issue_ won’t be laughed off?”

“ _Yes._ ”

At the force of his tone, Strickler actually drew back. The pen was back to spinning round in his hands.

Had he called Strickler ‘impure’ to his face before? He’d certainly thought it. Too skinny, too long-limbed, too alien, too _human_. Strickler had gazed at the Heartstone with fascination and respect, but he had no more looked drawn to it than Barbara had. It was like seeing Claire without a shadow; even Jim, a ‘half-troll’, reacted more strongly to it than Strickler did. Whatever had been done to the changelings, it was… _desecration_.

But for all the terrible things Strickler and his siblings had done in their long lives (and there were many, Blinky well knew), this was the one thing trolls had no right to blame them for. It was time for Trollmarket to change; it was time for Trollmarket to grow up. They had accepted a human as their saviour, it was time to accept the changelings as their troll kin. Blinky intended to ensure they did.

“What if I tell them to go to the Trollhunter instead?” asked Strickler slowly.

“By all means,” Blinky agreed immediately. “Intra-troll clan disputes is an area Master Jim needs more experience in, and he seems rather to enjoy figuring things out with changelings.”

_It isn’t a power play, you paranoid bastard. It’s high time you realised you’re the only one playing._

Strickler snorted a sudden laugh. He set the pen down decisively.

“Well, if our dear Young Atlas is on the case, I expect neither of us have anything to fear.”

“No, we do not.”

If a year ago, somebody had told Blinky that two centuries-old trolls could settle their differences via a 16-year-old (former) human child, he would have laughed. But if even an hour ago, somebody had told Blinky that he and the changeling Stricklander could grin into their cups of tea together, he would have laughed even harder. Life truly was the sort of thing you had to live to believe.


End file.
